Red Sky at Night
by CindyCindy
Summary: Angel, takes time to mourn the dead. And as all ways, the PTB are giving him yet another chance at atonment.


Title: Red Skies at Night

Author: CindyCindy

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: It is not mine...and you know it. All belong to Joss Whedon.

Author's Notes: Every one thank Ozma914 (Thank you- ozma) for beta-ing. BETAs, _it's a good thing._

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If you should die before me ask if you could bring a friend-Stone Temple Pilots

Los Angeles was a war zone, but the survivors still took time to honor their fallen comrades. They laid their weapons in a pile on the sand. Illyria retrieved Wesley's body and brought it to the beach. Charles Gunn's body lay upon a wooden raft. Illyria laid Wesley down next to Gunn. She walked over and stood by Angel, who was barely able to stand. He was being supported by Connor, who had come to say goodbye to the men he fought evil with side by side. Though it had been during a different life, Connor felt he should be here.

Spike, bloodied, tired, and short one pinkie finger, walked around the raft slowly while liberally shaking a can of gasoline. When his task was complete, he walked over to where the others were.

Illyria was the first to speak. "Wesley told me the proper way for humans to grieve their dead was to eulogize them. His words were full of bile. He told me that my very existence was an insult to her memory. He was bitter. He never had the chance to eulogize Winifred Burkle." She sounded every bit as bitter as she had described Wesley.

Every one looked at Angel, waiting for him to step in to the role of leader and speak for the dead. Angel could do nothing more than grind his teeth and keep his grasp on Connor's shoulder.

Spike buried his hands in his hair and looked up at the sky. It was smoky and an eerie shade, nearly red, which caused his hair to take on a bright orange glow. Illyria looked purple. "Why don't you begin Violet," he said.

Illyria looked at Spike curiously than walked over to the raft. She turned and faced her small audience. "Charles Gunn was a fierce man," she began. She paused for a moment. "I will regret that I will no longer see his face anywhere but inside my memories," Illyria paused again. "Wesley did not believe he would die in this battle. His death is the fuel to my fire for destruction of the forces of the Wolf, the Hart, and the Ram. I will fight the battle for him." Illyria thought this a proper farewell. She walked through the soft sand and stood next to Spike.

Spike felt it was his turn to speak. Instead of walking to the raft, he turned and spoke directly to Angel. "Charlie was a good bloke. Knew how to have a good time, was up for a tussle. Made some mistakes but his heart was in the right place." Spike paused for a moment, considering what to say next. "Wesley..."he began, "Wesley liked his books, and his liquor, and was dead useful with a firearm-"

"Shut the fuck up Spike!" Angel yelled. The red sky cast Angel's face

, which was twisted in aguish and rage, in alight that made it resemble his demonic visage. "You didn't know them!" Angel drew himself up to his full height. "You either," he said to Connor. Connor swiftly took a step back.

Angel raged. He stalked over to Illyria and screamed in her face, "Wes was right, you don't belong here". Illyria titled her head. She wore a puzzled expression, but did not speak.

Spike began to defend her but he never got a word out. Angel cut him off. "You don't belong here either," he hissed. He could feel the loss of control and began pulling at his own hair out of sheer frustration.

Spike stood in the sand with his bloody mouth set in a grim line. Spike could see the tide was starting to recede. He stood up, walked over to the raft, and shoved it into the shallow water. Spike lit a cigarette and inhaled. The deep breath rattled his broken ribs causing enough pain to make him forget his missing finger. He exhaled. The raft drifted slowly away so he through his cigarette on to it. The cherry of the cigarette sparked an inferno. The bodies quickly caught fire. The raft bobbed out to sea.

"This is a warrior's send off," Illyria said sagely.

Angel dropped to his knees and began to moan. Connor who been quietly watching the burning raft drift away, came over and put an arm around him. "Dad," he said softly. Angel looked at him, surprised. "Look," Connor said pointing to the circling dragon over down town L.A. "They still need you."

"Tadpole there is right," Spike said, "Unless you plan to sit here and wait for the sun to rise."

"I do," Angel said looking at the red sky.

"Well, I don't know how long you are going to have to wait," Connor said as he stood up, "The sun should have risen about fifteen minuets ago."

Angel looked shocked for a moment then jumped to his feet. "Damn you," he yelled at the sky. "Could you be any less original?"

"Who is he talking to?" Illyria asked.

"The Power's That Be, I hope." Spike replied.

Angel picked up the weapons and started passing them around. People still needed them.


End file.
